


Just Be Good

by Nomanono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: #nsfwyurioweek, M/M, Obedience, Service Submission, Submissive Yuuri, dominant yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 20:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono
Summary: “Should I call you Sir?”Yuri hadn’t thought about that. He shook his head. “Just Yuri.”“Okay,” Yuuri said once more. He touched Yuri’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”“We’re both still ourselves,” Yuri said. “I just want you to do what I tell you to do.”“...I will, Yuri.”





	Just Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> #NSFWYurioWeek Day 3: Top Yuri / Dominant Yuri
> 
> This is an [ADKOC](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Silly_Sweet_Serious_Sexy/works/9124666) story. 
> 
> I've been wanting to write this for AGES and this week finally gave me an excuse. I'm so glad that we get to see Yuri flexing his ability to dom.
> 
> Gratitude to verity and Sintina for the betas <3

It didn’t start any differently than a normal day.

They’d set up a little desk in the living room where Yuri could study while still being a part of the family. He was reading his history book while Yuuri polished his skates on the floor. Otabek and Victor were out shopping, ostensibly just for food, but Victor always got distracted.

“Hey,” Yuri said.

“Mm?”

“… I want to dom you.”

Yuuri adjusted his glasses in surprise, pushing them back up his nose like maybe that would clarify the sudden, unexpected statement.

“Okay,” Yuuri said. “Wh—“

“I want you to be good,” Yuri said. He had a blush that was only visible thanks to the paleness of his skin. “And I want you to obey me.”

“Okay,” Yuuri repeated. “When?”

“...I want you to go get my skates. Bring them here, and you can polish them at my feet.” He thought for a moment. “You should bring a pillow, too, so you can kneel. The scene starts when you get back.”

Yuuri’s brain had to play catch up, trying to process this sudden transformation. He could have said no, or later, but instead Yuuri gave his boyfriend an affirming smile and he rose to his feet. “Should I call you Sir?”

Yuri hadn’t thought about that. He shook his head. “Just Yuri.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said once more. He touched Yuri’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“We’re both still ourselves,” Yuri said. “I just want you to do what I tell you to do.”

“I will, Yuri.”

—

Yuuri placed the pillow beside Yuri’s chair and picked up the brush and polish again. Yuri’s skates were lighter, the carbon fiber stanchions designed for the extreme technique of Yuri’s jumps. But the boot was a boot, and Yuuri fell into the soothing, methodical rhythm of dipping the polish cloth, scrubbing it into the leather, and repeating. The scent of polish counteracted the scent of Yuri’s sweat and blood; they were only just starting the official season, but Yuri’s skates had already seen months of wear.

Yuri was quiet, both of them working independently, together.

Yuuri looked up when Yuri set his hand in his hair, petting.

“I like watching you do this for me,” Yuri said. “You’re doing very well.”

Yuuri had never felt that sort of bubbling blush before, nor imagined Yuri’s praise could evoke it. Yuri washed his fingers over Yuuri’s scalp, and Yuuri murmured: “Thank you, Yuri.”

—

“I’m finished, Si— Yuri, I’m finished,” Yuuri said. He held up both of Yuri’s skates, the black so glossy it almost looked like latex.

Yuri looked at them, brushing his hair back behind his ear, and then took each one and inspected it. Yuuri had been diligent, and had the dark spot on his right thumb to prove it. There wasn’t a speck to be found, the creases had been buffed out, and he’d even unlaced the skates to get around the eyelets.

“Thank you,” Yuri said.

“You’re welcome, Yuri.” Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

Yuri’s hand brushed through Yuuri’s hair again, thoughtful and quiet. The silence was surprising: Yuri was normally all too eager to run his mouth, to respond without any sort of filter. _This_ was a Yuri Plisetsky Yuuri had never met before -- one he desperately wanted to get to know.

“I want you to wash my feet and change my bandages,” Yuri said.

Yuuri was already kneeling, so he placed his palms on the floor to deepen his bow. “Yes, Yuri. I’ll be right back.”

—

Yuri’s feet were bandaged and bruised, typical wear and tear for a skater. Yuuri laid a towel beneath his feet, pulling off Yuri’s sock. Once he’d removed the existing bandages, Yuuri lifted Yuri’s foot and guided it into a bowl of warm water, where he washed it with a gentle soap and slow, massaging circles of his thumbs.

He’d learned that from Otabek.

Beside him was a stack of wraps and tape and a small first aid kit because it was easier than carrying the bandages alone. There were only two blisters on this foot that needed special attention. After patting Yuri’s foot dry, Yuuri covered them with small adhesive bandages. He knew how Yuri usually wrapped this foot, so he split a strip of KT tape, notched the corners off to prevent peeling, and braced the bridge. The bandage wrap was reserved for Yuri’s ankle.

“Wait,” Yuri said, as Yuuri was reaching for his sock. “Kiss my foot first.”

“Yes, Yuri.” Yuuri lifted Yuri’s foot to his lips, pressing a kiss below the bandage.

Yuri leaned back, watching Yuuri pull his sock back on, careful not to disturb his wrappings. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Yuri,” Yuuri murmured, his chest too full to manage more than that. He moved to the other foot, but Yuri’s hand came to his hair, made him pause.

“Yuuri…” Yuri said. “While you wash… I want you to think about- about us. How we got here.”

—

The second time was different.

As Yuuri kneaded Yuri’s foot he remembered the first time he’d seen Yuri, glaring at him, telling him to retire, that the bracket was too small for both of them.

He remembered the time, as Yuri yelled at him, told him off, that he realized Yuri didn’t know who Yuuri was - or what he was capable of. Then he trained alongside Yuri, _learned_ from Yuri. He was inspired by Yuri’s dedication and confidence, even foolhardy as it sometimes was.

He remembered Yuri looking up from the waterfall: that was the first glimpse Yuuri had of his love.

There was more of it, after: katsudon piroshki thrown at his feet, sobbing tears after Yuri’s free skate, the desperate way Yuri hugged him when he promised _I’m not retiring_.

Yuri led him on tours when he moved to St. Petersburg, lingered after they’d all eaten dinner because he didn’t want to be apart from his friends.

He banged down Victor’s door, because he’d found someone he wanted to be more than friends with, and couldn’t, for all his confidence, manage the vulnerability to let another person into his body.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his hand into his eye as it started to itch. He held Yuri’s foot to his cheek as he thought about the first time — the first time Yuri had let him in. He dabbed wet rivulets and glistening beads off Yuri’s skin, bandaged the blisters.

The sex was good, but the sex was one small part of their love. Their love was also home-made chicken stock when Yuri was sick and late night pajama parties because Victor found a new trashy reality show. It was taking turns poking Victor awake when he started to snore, or all trying to remember basic algebra to help Yuri with his homework. It was getting to witness a side of Yuri that no camera, no angels, and no one else in the world got to see.

Yuuri finished his wrapping and tucked his lips against Yuri’s arch before sliding his sock back on.

“Did you think of us?” Yuri asked, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

“Yes, Yuri,” his voice cracked.

—

Yuri still had a few more pages to get through, so Yuuri put away his supplies and curled up at Yuri’s feet, head pillowed on them as Yuri commanded.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Yuri said. “Just rest. You can think about whatever you want.”

But Yuuri couldn’t think about anything besides his boyfriend.

The door opened, Victor’s shining voice regaling Otabek about some mishap at the store. Yuuri felt his cheeks go flush.

Yuri cleared his throat, audibly, and the monologue cut off.

“We’re in scene,” Yuri said. “Can we have this side for awhile?”

There was a moment of staring, of gears turning, of Victor and Otabek seeing their cubs, and Yuri’s quiet authority, and realizing what was happening.

“Of course,” Otabek said. He took Victor’s hand and pulled the floundering Russian to the other side of the apartment. Yuri didn’t even hear the door shut.

“Are you okay?” Yuri asked.

“Yeah,” Yuuri said.

“Not embarrassed?”

“No.”

Minutes later Yuri’s textbook fell shut, air rushing out from between heavy chunks of pages.

“Let’s go to the couch,” Yuri said. “Bring your comb.”

—

Yuuri knelt between Yuri’s legs, head tilted forward, eyes closed, the tines of the comb massaging his scalp.

“It started with Eros and Agape, right?” Yuri said, rhetorical. “So… tell me the time with the most Eros -- and you can’t say when we were eating Katsudon.”

Yuuri’s spine tingled.

“Our most erotic time…” Yuuri considered. Yuri’s fingers were alternating with the comb, gliding through the dark furrows. 

The pair had had sex so many times. So many wonderful, delicious times. They’d role-played and stuck odd things in each other, they’d been spanked and whipped and punished. They’d woken up in the middle of the night and lazily humped until something slipped somewhere good.

How in the world was Yuuri supposed to pick one time?

“… I think it’s the way you ask,” Yuuri murmured. “You’ll ask me for whatever you want; you’ll tell me exactly what you’d like to feel good. You’re never really ashamed of it, or embarrassed.”

Yuuri could hear the smile in Yuri’s response: “That’s not a specific time.”

Yuuri flushed, collecting himself and reconsidering. He didn’t expect _this_ to be the most difficult task Yuri had given him.

“Maybe it was the very first time you asked,” Yuuri said, tipping his head back towards the comb. “The three of us were on the bed, and you got on all fours and looked over your shoulder at me. You hadn’t learned how to use your words yet. But you were inviting me into you, telling me you needed me to feel good.”

“The first time you fucked me,” Yuri said.

“The first time you asked me to.”

Yuri brushed the comb above Yuuri’s ear, glossing back his hair. “How do you feel now, with me telling, instead of asking?”

Yuuri’s blush grew. “No matter how you say what you need, I’ll do my best to give it to you, Yuri.”

Yuri was quiet the way Otabek got quiet after Yuri confessed, thoughtful, tight-chested with emotion. He set the comb aside. “Turn around.”

When Yuuri had, he leaned his cheek on Yuri’s thigh, nuzzling. Yuri rubbed his thumb over Yuuri’s cheek, then his lips. “Is this okay so far?”

Yuuri’s heart was already full to bursting for Yuri. He was able to nod, but only just, and then swallowed his emotion. His little kitten, so gentle and firm as he tested his ability to lead!

“Help me out,” Yuri murmured, scooting his hips towards the edge of the couch, widening his legs so Yuuri could fit between them. Yuuri brought his hands to Yuri’s crotch, fingers making quick work of the layers until Yuri was free.

“You know I can’t — “ Yuuri started.

“I know,” Yuri said, fingertips tracing Yuuri’s jaw. “You were the one who told me it didn’t matter, weren’t you? Even if you can only manage the head, it’ll feel good anyway.”

Yuuri nodded, opened his mouth, and Yuri scooted those last few inches forward. Yuri was still mostly soft, making it easy for Yuuri to engulf him; his cock was deceptively small, burrowed in its foreskin. Yuuri’s tongue compressed the inflating flesh against the roof of his mouth, gliding the point along Yuri’s frenulum.  

Yuri sighed in pleasure, slumped as all the tension seeped out of him, and Yuuri’s toes curled in satisfaction. All he wanted was to make his kitten feel good.

And Yuri was making _him_ feel good, too: scrubbing his fingertips over Yuuri’s scalp, scratching down to his nape.

As Yuri grew, Yuuri had to pull back, but his hand took over what his mouth couldn’t reach. How rare was it that Yuri came from just his cock alone? He’d had plenty of prostate orgasms, but Yuuri worried he wouldn’t be able to get Yuri off, or his jaw would get tired and sore before he could. Normally he would talk dirty to Yuri to help him off, but now there was just —

“Yuuri,” Yuri said. “Stop thinking so hard.” He soothed Yuuri’s blush with a smile. “You feel incredible.”

Yuri brought his hand between his legs, fondling his balls, watching Yuuri’s lips and tongue. Regardless of the physical sensations Yuuri was providing him, he seemed more than happy with Yuuri’s overall servitude.

His hand tightened in Yuuri’s hair and Yuuri pushed his mouth forward, taking as much as he could as Yuri released. He sat back with a swallow and a short cough, pride in his eyes.

“Come here,” Yuri beckoned. Yuuri rose from his knees, climbed onto the couch and straddled Yuri to hug him. Yuuri’s erection pressed into Yuri’s abs, two different kinds of hardness.

Yuri cuddled his boyfriend, fingertips lazily rising and falling beside Yuuri’s spine. “You were so good today, but I want to leave you like this…” Yuri slid his hand briefly between Yuuri’s legs, squeezing.

“I can’t come?” Yuuri asked.

“No,” Yuri soothed. His fingers brushed the hollow of Yuuri’s palm. “But you can come to the bed with me, and I’ll hold you, and rub your back until you fall asleep.”

\--

Yuri climbed into bed and laid out on his back, extending an arm to welcome Yuuri against him. It reminded Yuuri of Victor, the way he would beckon his Yuris against his chest and cradle them. Yuuri scooted into the space Yuri made for him, laying his cheek on Yuri’s shoulder, arm folded on his chest.

“I forgot the juice,” Yuri whispered in apology.

Yuuri kissed the taut plane of Yuri’s pectoral. “We don’t always need juice. Sometimes cuddles work just as well.” His erection pulsed against Yuri’s thigh. Yuri smiled, staring up at the ceiling, his hand swirling over Yuuri’s back. 

“What about you?” Yuuri murmured, outlining Yuri’s nipple with his finger.

Yuri’s lower lip slid beneath his teeth. “... it was really intense for me. Seeing you… seeing you obey me? Realizing you would do what I said.” Yuri’s arms went from rubbing to clasping, hugging Yuuri tight. “You were so good, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri nuzzled into his boyfriend, kissing him sweetly. His hand curved around Yuri’s jaw and Yuri pressed his cheek into Yuuri’s palm. Brown and green gazes danced together, a silent conversation about gratitude and acceptance and this little promise of new opportunities.

“You were too, you know,” Yuuri whispered.

And all Yuri could do was smile.


End file.
